Denouement
by Missgoldy
Summary: They're coming to terms with the fact that the end should have been their beginning.
1. Chapter 1

Hi. It's me again. Another fic. Seriously, they're tumbling out like verbal word vomit. I forsee this being 3-4 chapters, hope you like it :-) Rated T for language and adult themes.

* * *

 **Denouement**

deɪˈnuːmɒ̃/

 _noun_

1 the final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved.

2\. the outcome of a situation, when something is decided or made clear.

* * *

Chapter One

Linka flung herself into the overstuffed wardrobe in the nick of time; pulling the door inwards until a gap the size of her fingertip was evident. Dainty hands braced themselves against the narrow walls and she bit her lip, watching on as Looten Plunder strode into the office with his small army of staff. His face was flushed and he wore the expression of a man who was majorly pissed off.

 _No doubt because of us…_

She flinched as Plunder started barking orders left, right and centre; flailing his arms around and looking alarmingly unhinged.

"Those little bastards are NOT screwing this up for me," he roared. Plunder slammed his fists on the desk, causing the desktop computer to come out of sleep mode. Linka held her breath, watching on through the crack and knowing that the files she'd been in the middle of downloading would now be visible. The monitor was angled down towards the cluttered surface and she hoped he was too preoccupied to notice.

"You reckon it's them?" A new voice joined the fray, guttural and with snorting undertones. Linka couldn't see from her hiding spot but knew beyond a doubt that Hoggish Greedly had joined them.

"Of course it's them," Plunder seethed, glaring in Greedly's direction. "There's a mud pit where my car used to be."

"What do you want us to do?"

Plunder laid his palms flat against the table; his brow creasing as he noticed the state of his computer for the first time. He tilted his head, glancing around suspiciously before answering.

"Bleak thought he saw Blondie and the monkey-man near the containment area. Head there first, get Rigger to bury the rest of the evidence."

A burly brick of a man stepped backwards, nudging the wardrobe door with his hip and Linka pressed herself further against the office supplies and reams of paper, suddenly sure they would hear her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She controlled her breathing, silently willing herself to remain calm. Clenching her ring finger, she remained ready to make a move if she needed too.

Plunder scowled, still rubbing his chin before turning and striding from the room; his motley gang of goons falling in line behind him. He nodded towards a figure languishing beside the door and jacked his thumb towards the computer. "Find those files. Whatever it takes."

The room fell silent once again and Linka exhaled with relief. She steadied herself against the shelves and waited for a few minutes, wanting to be certain that the area was clear. Stepping out quietly, she made it as far as the corner of Plunder's desk before a deep voice punctuated the atmosphere.

"Gotcha!"

Linka jumped and turned; raising her ring in fright but a sharp, blinding pain impacted upon her temple. Her head whipped to the right and she collapsed to her knees, stunned by the blow.

The last thing she remembered was her ring being reefed from her index finger and Argos Bleak's grinning face leering down at her before she felt another strike, this time hitting her forehead front and centre.

She slumped to the ground, unconscious as Bleak hefted the girl over his shoulder and lumbered towards the dump-zone.

It was time to tie up loose ends.

* * *

Linka was eventually awoken by a loud clanging noise.

She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning softly against what appeared to be a rag stuffed inside her mouth and held intact by gaffer tape. The scent and taste of petrol on the rag was overpowering and she silently willed herself not to retch; wanting to avoid choking on her own vomit.

She shifted slightly, leaning forward on her knees and felt resistance. Tilting her head back, she soon realised why. Her wrists were cuffed above her head and shackled to a hook, with the chains wrapping several times around a load-bearing pylon.

The room was cavernous. She squinted in the limited light, aware that she was being held somewhere underground. The blonde regarded her surroundings with mounting fear.

 _Bozhe moy… this is what we were looking for._

Resembling a crudely dug-out underground bunker, the area was roughly the size of a large house. Dozens of oil drums and canisters littered the area, many of which had corroded and were currently seeping clear, black and yellow ooze into the ground.

Puddles of liquid covered the ground, including the puddle that Linka was currently kneeling in.

 _Ugh. Gadost'._

Another clanging sound caused Linka to jump. Her movement was restricted but she turned her head and watched on warily as Rigger entered the cavern through a circular entrance. She glared at him and he gave a smirk in her direction, pushing a red trolley with another oil drum balanced precariously on top.

He halted towards the middle of the space and offloaded his cargo, before dusting off his hands on his trousers and heading back towards the doorway.

She eyed the masses of rusted containers with dread, aware that they contained industrial waste, fuel and other toxic chemicals that local companies had paid Plunder to dispose of. The Planeteers had been tracking this operation for months but had struggled to locate where he was storing the chemicals. Above ground, everything looked legitimate.

 _Oh well. I have found it after all,_ she thought with annoyance.

More noises snapped her back to attention. She blinked as she heard two distinct voices echoing around the cavern. Linka pressed back against the pylon, staring at the entrance as the voices rose in volume.

"…only following orders," Rigger said, pleading with whoever was approaching. "Yep, yep. No one's getting hurt."

"Tell that to the village downstream, idiot. This shit's seeping into the bore water."

 _Wheeler._

"We have government permission. You know this is legal in thirty-seven states?."

She heard Wheeler snort with derision. He added, almost casually, "You know inbreeding is probably illegal in thirty-seven states too, Rigger?"

"Huh?"

"I dunno," she heard Wheeler reply airily. "Just thought it was relevant information for ya."

"Hey! You can't talk to me that…""

Linka heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a loud thump as she watched Rigger's body hit the ground.

"Boring conversation anyway," Wheeler muttered, stepping over Greedly's prone assistant and coming into view. The red-head sauntered through the doorway, rapping his knuckles on the steel door as he passed before finally locking eyes on Linka. "Hiya cutie!"

"Mmph."

"Sorry babe, didn't catch that," he replied smartly. He raised his hands in the air, manoeuvring his way around the canisters with a spring in his step. "Do you ever _not_ get captured? Kwame and I have started taking bets on ya'."

"Mmph!"

Wheeler smirked as he reached the Russian, nudging her knee gently with his foot. "You really gotta' start articulating better."

She glared at him, watching on as the American dropped down to his knees beside her. He reached forward and started peeling away the tape from her jaw with gentle fingers, glancing back every now and then at Rigger who was lying where he'd landed: sprawled just outside the entrance.

Wheeler removed the last of the tape and pulled out the oily rag, watching on with concern as Linka leaned as far forward as the chains allowed. Her body shook as a violent coughing fit overwhelmed her.

Wheeler sat patiently, gripping her shoulder to steady her. "You all right?"

Linka nodded, her throat burning as she wiped her face on the inside of her raised arm. She winced as her eyes begun to sting, noticing for the first time the oily sheen that was present on her skin and clothes.

"Just get me out of here, Yankee," she said, her voice husky from the fumes. Her patience was wearing thin. She was sore, soaked through and the toxic materials were making her light-headed and sick. "We need to find the others."

"What the hell did they do to you? You're covered in this shit," he remarked, running his fingers through her tresses and studying the substance coating his fingertips. "Musta' dragged you in here."

"Now, Yankee." It was a demand rather than a request. She had reached her limit. Wheeler sighed; rising to his feet and raising his ring. Linka closed her eyes and looked away, protecting her face from the sparks that would soon start cascading downwards.

But he hesitated; standing and staring as he lowered his fist. Reaching forward, he ran his finger down her arm instead, and sniffed the oily substance coating her hair and skin.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, annoyed that he hadn't started burning through her restraints. "I swear to God, Yankee, I am going to…"

"This smell like fuel to you?" He looked down at her worriedly.

Linka's heart sank as her jaw hung open with disappointment. In all honesty, the thought had never even occurred to her.

 _Bozhe moy. Just great. I am flammable._

She watched him crouch back down beside her. " _Der'mo._ All right. Maybe find something you can break the chain with? I am feeling a little boozy here."

"Woozy," Wheeler corrected, patting her shoulder reassuringly and pushing himself back off the ground again. He jogged back to the passageway outside. The sounds of metallic rustling filled the air, presumably a tool box being rifled through. "Boozy means somethin' else entirely."

"Oh," she replied. "I am woozy, then. Have you found anything?"

"Got something!"

She watched him re-enter the cavern with a small hacksaw in hand, darting gracefully around the canisters and puddles. "Okay. I'm gonna have to go slow, no sparks. Can't have you lightin' up like a Fourth of July cracker night."

"That is reassuring," Linka muttered. She was tired now. Her knees were aching and she was cold and soaked through. Wheeler's body pressed close as he leaned over her, attempting to saw through the chains. She rested her cheek against the side of his chest, thankful to be breathing in the much more pleasant scent of his clothes and skin.

She frowned though as she peered around his jacket and noticed a figure missing. "Ah, Wheeler? Rigger has gone," she mumbled against his shirt and Wheeler turned, the hacksaw stalling in mid air.

"Huh? Where'd that little sneak…"

A deafening blast interrupted him. Both Planeteer's visibly jumped at the noise as an alarm sounded, accompanied by a flashing red light located above the doorway.

Wheeler tossed the hacksaw aside, a panicked look crossing his features. "Shit. That can't be good," he muttered. "Hold still for a sec, babe."

The chains above her head jostled loudly and she winced as he tried to pull her free from the chains. She cried out as agony flared through her wrists, as he attempted to squeeze them through the restraints. "Wheeler, stop! They are not coming off!"

The American swore under his breath, still holding onto her chained wrists. "Friggin' Bleak and his hand-cuffs. Bastard doesn't skimp on quality."

She raised frightened eyes towards the entrance as the metal door suddenly creaked to life, adding to the cacophony of alarms, beeps and flashing lights. The hinges were obviously on an automatic time delay and the door was now slowly closing… which would effectively seal them in.

"Get out of here, Yankee," she cried as he released her and jumped to his feet, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. Linka shook her head imploringly. "There is no sense in both of us getting st…."

"I'm not leaving you," he said, quietly but firmly. "Hang on, I've got an idea."

The American's face was tense as he high-tailed it towards the entrance, vaulting over several obstructions and skidding to a stop. He dragged several oil drums over and positioned them roughly in place, intent on wedging the objects inside the opening.

Stepping back, he raisied his ring to his temple. "Ma-Ti, if you can hear me - we're in trouble, little buddy. We're under the water towers and we're …"

He broke off abruptly as the door made contact with the metal. Wheeler's shoulders slumped in defeat as the drums were crushed with little resistance. The door shut with a resounding echo and Wheeler knew they were now locked inside. Linka was without her ring, and any use of his own power would probably blast them all into oblivion, courtesy of the heavy fumes.

The flashing lights and alarms ceased all at once and the area descended into darkness. An eerie silence descended upon them, save for the rhythmic dripping of chemicals onto the ground.

"Any ideas? I got nothin'."

"Can you see a control panel?"

"Babe, I can't see anything..."

He ran his hands blindly over the surface of the door and walls but found nothing useful.

"Wheeler?" The red-head turned, searching for her voice. She sounded slightly hysterical. "Wheeler, what is that? Can you see it flashing?"

A green light blinked towards the back of the cavern. Unable to see properly, the Fire Planeteer gingerly made his way towards it, side stepping as best he could to avoid tipping anything over. He reached the source and froze.

A box with small green numbers came into view, attached to the top of a drum with wires and cables snaking into the barrel. A faint light emitted from the box and his heart skipped a beat.

37:34

37:33

37:32

"Yankee? What is it?"

 _Shit._

"It's a timer," he replied, being deliberately vague as he raised his wrist and pinned the countdown into his own watch, assisted by the faint glow given off by the blinking numbers on the panel.

Giving the device a cursory look, he knew he had no hope of diffusing it: especially if Argos Bleak had prepared it.

"A timer? A timer for what?" For the first time that he could remember, she sounded scared. He had a suspicion she had already guessed what the little surprise was that Plunder had left down there with them. "Please tell me it is not…"

Wheeler sighed, before turning and making his way back to his team mate. The chains were rustling and the American knew she was still frantically trying in vain to free herself.

Starting to acclimatise to the darkness, he reached the Russian and crouched down beside her.

"Well," he said quietly, taking a seat beside her. "It ain't a thirty-five minute egg timer."

"It is a bomb?"

"Yeah."

A small sound escaped her lips. Wheeler heard the chains rattling once again against the pillar; her breathing heavy and ragged as she continued struggling against her bonds. He placed his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently before raising his ring and attempting again to make contact with Ma-Ti.


	2. Chapter 2

I am so freakin' deliriously happy with this chapter. In a devastating sort of way. Get the tissues and comfort food ready, Becks7.

Thanks so much to my reviewers so far xx

 **Denouement**

 **Chapter Two**

"How long now?"

She felt Wheeler shift slightly beside her. "Thirty-two minutes."

Linka breathed out slowly, using the chains to pull her body weight upwards and relieve the pressure on her knees and legs. The tendons in her body screamed as she began rocking backwards and forwards in an attempt to iron out the kinks in her muscles.

The position she was in was awkward. With her arms outstretched above her head and her body kneeling in an upright stance, it meant she couldn't slump or relax. Needing to keep her body taut, the pressure on her shoulders, knees and hips was becoming unbearable.

Wheeler seemed to sense this.

"You all right?" he asked quietly, his voice low in the gloomy darkness.

"Nyet," she replied. "I cannot stay like this for much longer."

"Want me to at least try and release you from the hook?"

Linka nodded vigorously. "Da. Would you?"

"Sure," he replied, standing and testing the chain with both hands. "Might be able to jimmy-out the metal enough to slide the cuffs through. You'll still be chained to the pole but it'll give you room to move."

"All right," she said sleepily, her body already succumbing to the toxins in the air. Wheeler disappeared, returning several moments later with a fist-sized rock. She sighed as he leaned over her, feeling the pleasant warmth of his body as he pressed close and started hammering away carefully at the metal protruding from the concrete.

Linka rested her head against his chest again, struggling to keep her eyes open. She counted fourteen strikes before her thought patterns began to trail off towards another realm entirely.

"That should work." He was glancing down at her worriedly. "Don't go to sleep on me, Ruskie-Tootskie."

She nodded, kneeling more upright and shaking off the lethargy. "Sorry, Wheeler. These fumes are starting to effect me, I think."

"Okay if I lift ya?"

"Yes, that is fine. You do not need to ask."

"On a normal day you'd slap the shit outta' me," he said, smiling as he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled the tired Russian to her feet. "I guess this must be the exception."

"This is not a normal day," she replied tersely as he gripped under her knees and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Warm hands settled on her hips as she wriggled the chain a few times, testing the amount of slack she had.

The Russian glanced down, noting his smug grin, illuminated by the faint light of his ring. He was enjoying this immensely. "Do not go getting any ideas, Wheeler."

She felt a light slap on her upper thigh. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Linka's body bowed backwards and she relaxed her elbows in order to compensate, allowing her more freedom of movement. The chains jiggled and she waited for a moment as her shoulders adjusted.

"Can you turn me around now so I am facing it?"

"Yep."

"I can see the gap," she breathed, focusing hard as she bunched her hands into fists and worked towards sliding the cuffs over the surface of the metal. "Can you lift me a little higher?"

"Yeah," Wheeler muttered. He grabbed her thighs and hoisted her further up his body, leaning against the pillar in order to counter-balance her weight. "Better?"

"Da, hold me there," she said, her face tense with concentration. She flicked the metal chain connecting the cuffs upwards several times. After the fourth attempt she succeeded, jumping slightly as the larger chain that tethered the cuffs to the pillar went clamouring to the floor with an almighty crash.

Wheeler staggered slightly as Linka's body weight pitched forward. The heavy chain dragged them downwards and they fell in a heap at the base; Linka's legs still wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Great party game," Wheeler muttered, propping himself up against the pillar and rubbing his head. "Ow."

"Shut up, Yankee," Linka groaned and slumped against his chest; still straddling him as her body screamed in pain. "Oh, that hurts."

He tucked his legs underneath her body and readjusted the slack on the large chain, allowing Linka to rest her bound arms around his neck. She groaned again.

"Not a fan of Argos Bleak's House of Pain?"

"Nyet. I think it is over-rated," she replied, unable to hide her sarcasm as she rolled her shoulders and stretched out the tight muscles in her neck. "Have you tried Ma-Ti again?"

"Yep. Nothin'."

"Just wonderful," the Russian lamented, resting against Wheeler's body. "What now?"

"I dunno. We can play truth or dare?"

Linka spluttered against his neck, indignant that he'd even suggested it. "Truth or dare? Wheeler, are you ever capable of being serious?

"I am being serious," he said, rolling his eyes at her reaction. "God knows we could use some distraction. Besides, it'll take our minds of the forty mega-tonne bomb about to blow a hole through half of New Mexico."

"How can you joke at a time like this?" she exclaimed, frustration coursing through her. He didn't answer immediately and Linka frowned, suddenly wondering if she'd offended him.

She sighed, nudging his shoulder with her forehead. "We have twenty-six minutes left to live and you are still being a clown."

She shifted in his arms, pressing her forehead against his neck as she waited for a response. Rhythmic dripping noises sounded from an unidentified water source and she closed her eyes, lulled by the steady rise and fall of Wheeler's chest. She could feel his fingers scraping gently back and forth against her lower spine.

"You wanna know why?" he finally asked quietly, leaning back and cradling her face gently in his hands. Even in the dim light he watched her eyes widen as his thumbs caressed the silky skin of her cheeks. "Because I'd prefer to spend the last half hour of my life getting to know a pretty lady a little better. Cowering in a corner and whining about how unfair life is really isn't my thing."

"I know, Yankee," she sighed, tilting her head as he ran his thumb over her lips. That trademark lopsided smile caused her heart to skip a beat. He shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist again.

Even in the murky light, he could discern her soft features; the angle of her chin, the high cheekbones and full lips. They were permanently imprinted within his memory, stamped like a brand into his subconscious.

Linka pressed her bound hands against his heart. "You are certainly nothing if not true to yourself."

He shrugged. "Only way to be."

Linka leaned forward, pressing the side of her face against his throat. She could smell the faint scent of his after shave and she breathed in deeply, feeling her shoulders and back loosening up. "Truth or dare seems a little… difficult in my current situation, Yankee."

"How so?"

"For one, I am still chained. And perhaps daring me to drink industrial solvents seems a little pointless."

"Okay, fair call. We'll play truth or… truth. Nothing is off limits, though."

"All right," she said, mumbling her words against his skin. "I have a fifty percent chance of regretting this."

"Not possible," he assured her. "You also have a fifty percent chance of being blown to smithereens and never having to worry about it again. So, truth or dare? I mean truth?"

She smiled wanly, relaxing somewhat into his embrace. "Truth."

"What cream do you use? Like… on your body?"

Linka leaned back and regarded him with confusion. She opened her mouth to reply and promptly closed it again, a look of genuine surprise on her face. "THAT is your first question?"

"Hey c'mon," he implored her with a grin. "You walk around Hope Island smelling like a vanilla cupcake! I've always wanted to know what you put on…"

"Why, Yankee? Are you planning on eating it?" she exclaimed, unable to stem the tide of giggles bubbling through her body. Her laughter was contagious and they were both soon doubled over, in stitches. The ticking time-bomb was briefly pushed aside as they lost themselves within this welcome distraction.

"Oh man," Wheeler said, wiping his eyes as he got himself under control. "C'mon, babe. You know that food and Russians are my weakness. What can I say?"

She tightened her grip around his neck, smiling at him fondly. "It is shea body butter. There is a lovely lady from Ghana who stocks it and sends it to me."

"Good to know," he said, grinning back.

Linka shook her head at him in amusement, a smile still playing on her lips. "Truth or truth?"

"Truth."

"What is your first name? Ma-Ti told me it starts with a J, but…"

Wheeler groaned, leaning back and shaking his head. "Noooo."

"Nothing is off limits!" she laughed, echoing his own sentiments earlier. "Come on, Yankee. Confess."

"Argh," he grumbled, glancing upwards with a pained look on his face. "It's Jake."

"Really?" she asked in wonder, pausing for a moment to digest this new information. "Is Wheeler your surname?"

"Yeah," he said. "Moving on…"

"Do you not like Jake?"

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "You prefer your surname?"

"Oh, right. Nah, the name kinda stuck in the eighth grade after I…" He trailed off, looking a little sheepish. Linka raised her eyebrows and he sighed. "The whole 'Wheeler' thing came about after I boosted a motorbike from a neighbours garage with some friends when I was fourteen."

"You did not!" she exclaimed, her tone indignant. "It is you should be in these hand cuffs."

He smiled at the distant memory. "Two in the morning, we're doing burn-outs and wheelies in some shitty park in a downtown area of the Bronx. I lost control and sent the bike spinning across the road and through the window of a department store."

"Bozhe moy," she breathed. "Wheeler!"

"Yeah. Woke up in hospital with a bump on my head, a police escort and a juvenile record," he said, meeting her eyes. "Not my proudest moment. But yeah, the name stuck after that."

Linka nuzzled into him, quiet reflection giving way to the memory of their current situation. "Remind me to question you further about these childhood adventures, should we make it out of here. How long do we have?"

"Twenty-three minutes," he said, squeezing her tightly. "They'll find us. Truth or truth?"

"Truth," she said, closing her eyes and burrowing closer against him.

"Favourite song?"

"1812 Overture," she said without hesitation. "It is a classical piece by Tchaikovsky."

"So no Metallica in there? No Pearl Jam? Just a bunch of fancy notes by a 500 year old dead guy?"

"Nyet, it is not that old, silly," she smiled, a wistful expression on her face. "It is a beautiful piece of music. Do you know it?"

Wheeler leaned back and stared at her, raising his eyebrows theatrically. "Do I look like a guy with any concept of classical music whatsoever?"

"Oh, it is the most amazing piece of music," she said softly, utter joy reflected in her pretty features. Her hair was escaping from her pony-tail, curling in wisps around her face due to the humidity.

He reached forward and curled his finger around it, transfixed by the passion in her face as she spoke of the Russian composer. "Tchaikovsky was commissioned to write it. The piece commemorates the defeat of Napoleon's armies by our forces. It is a very patriotic theme for us Russians."

"Uh huh," Wheeler deadpanned, pulling her hair free from his finger and watching it bounce back into shape. "I'm sure."

"Nyet," she smiled. "I think you would like it. There are cannons! Parts of the 1812 have been used in American movies and television. You would know it if you heard it. I used to have it on cassette tape, but I always dreamed of seeing a full orchestral performance of..."

Linka's face fell and she lapsed into a contemplative silence again, blinking back tears. She breathed out as she felt Wheeler's hands pass over her back, rubbing in soothing, circular motions.

"They'll find us," he reassured her again, his breath warm against her ear. "Okay?"

She nodded against his shoulder, relaxing under his gentle touch. She was drowsy now. "Truth or truth?"

"Uh, I'll pick… truth."

"Do you remember last month when we were in Los Angeles at the renewable energy conference?"

"Yeeeeaaaahh," he said slowly. The American knew where this conversation was leading. "You wanna know what that brunette chick passed to me in the foyer?"

Linka laughed nervously. "Da, I will admit I was curious. It takes a lot to shock you. And Gi said Kwame nearly fell out of his chair when you showed him what was on the note. Gi and I have always wondered..."

"Christ," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "Ah, okay. Lets just say the note contained a room number and an invitation… and apparently it was 'bring a female friend' night."

Linka spluttered against his neck as a coughing fit overcame her. Her face turned red as she struggled to clear the build-up from her throat. "Bozhe moy," she gasped.

Wheeler shrugged, patting her on the back. "You asked. Anyway, it's not the first time I've been propositioned over the years... apart from the threesome thing, that is," he mused. "That's new."

"Did you go with any of them?" she asked quietly, hiding her face from his view. Her cheeks were burning now and certainly not from the humidity.

"Are you serious? Hell, no!"

"Why not?"

He shook his head and readjusted her, lifting and turning her body until she was sitting cradled within his lap. Linka leaned the side of her face against his chest as he looped the loose chain over their heads, allowing Linka to rest her bound hands within her own lap. Strong arms encircled her; his fingers reaching for her wrists and rubbing the bruised skin beneath the handcuffs.

"Why would I even entertain…" He broke off, his thumbs pausing over her skin as he gathered his thoughts. "It's like Paul Newman says. Why would I go out for hamburgers when I have steak at home?"

"What?" She gazed up at him, looking so adorably confused that Wheeler couldn't help smiling back. "I thought you liked hamburgers?"

"I do! It's an expression, babe."

She scrunched up her face, still trying to process the analogy. "But steak is better?"

He laughed, pressing his lips against her forehead as his body shook with trying to contain his amusement.

"Infinitely better. I'd have steak all day long… if it was available to me, that is. Or if the steak gave a clearer indication on whether it wanted to be... I dunno, eaten."

"I do not understand why you do not just buy it," she mumbled against his chest. "Kwame likes steak, too."

"Oh God," he spluttered, wiping his eyes and hugging her tightly. She was just gorgeous. "Moving right along. Truth or truth?"

"I will pick… truth."

"Why do you wear your hair up all the time?"

She angled her face up towards his. "That is another strange question?"

"I dunno," he ventured. "I guess I've known you for six years now and I've never seen your hair down. It's either tied up, or plaited. Just curious, I guess."

"Oh. Um, my hair is quite long. It takes a long time to dry. With the work that we do, I guess it is more efficient to keep it up and away from my face."

"Fair enough."

She raised her hands in an effort to untie her hair from the pony-tail; forgetting for a moment that her wrists were still bound. She dropped them again into her lap with a sigh.

"You can let my hair down if you wish," she said, jingling her chains with annoyance. "I am a little tied up…"

Wheeler reached forward with gentle fingers, unravelling the elastic band and watching as her hair fell over her face, tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders and down her arms. He pulled her close again, burying his nose into her thick tresses and breathing in the peach undertones of her shampoo, apparent even underneath the fuel and paint thinners.

He'd always loved her hair. The American's mind became a little hazy at this point as he willingly surrendered to this new sensory world. Shutting everything else out became easier; save for her softness, and her scent and her touch.

"Wheeler?" She whispered, tilting her head back against his shoulder as he nuzzled her neck. She felt safe, and warm and cocooned, with a new sensation beginning to course through her body. Nerve endings she didn't know existed became hyper-sensitive and a dull throb was pulsing steadily between her legs.

"Yeah," he answered, still nestled comfortably under her chin. His hand strayed to her waist, sliding under her shirt. Fingertips slid back and forth along her ribs and he felt a tremor pass through her.

"Truth or truth," she whispered, wondering if her courage would hold out for her next question. It had been burning at the forefront of her mind for many years now.

"Truth."

"How…" She stopped and swallowed nervously, before continuing. "How many women have you been with?"

"Wow," he said, reluctantly leaning back. He flattened his palm against her waist and used his free hand to trail his fingertips along the ridge of her forehead. "Gettin' deep and meaningful now."

"You... You do not have to answer if…" she stammered, blushing deeply but Wheeler waved her concerns away.

"Nah, nothing is off limits, remember." He frowned, evidently doing some numbers in his head as Linka gaped at him.

"Oh, bozhe moy," she complained, shoving his chest lightly. "Just the fact you have to think about it is…"

"Hang on," he grumbled. "There's one that's a bit iffy. Too many tequila shots."

She muttered something under her breath in Russian and he grinned. "All right. I'm countin' four. Enough to have experience but not enough for a new career as a male prostitute."

Linka nodded, looking a little bewildered. "Were they before or after you joined with the Planeteers?"

"Um… wow. Okay. My first time was when I was 14, maybe? Someone's parents were away, they threw a party and I hooked up with a girl from my Science class. Second girl you've met, she was my girlfriend for a year or two. Trish."

"What happened?"

He chuckled, clasping her hands within his own and trailing his fingertips over her knuckles. "She was young and I was a friggin' idiot."

Linka smiled at that. "And the last two?"

"One was a semi-regular thing after I started lightin' fires for a living."

Linka frowned. "Do I know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually. You know that young senator from New York State? Nicole?"

"Da, I do." Linka blinked as the image of a tall, friendly and attractive brunette with olive skin and dark eyes filtered through. She remembered Nicole Velazquez very well. Linka was stunned. She'd had no idea. "Oh."

"Yeah," he said, shifting slightly and leaning back against the pillar after resettling the blonde within his lap. "Really nice girl. It's been about two years though since I saw her. I think she wanted something more, but I…" He trailed off, contemplating things over and she didn't press him for further information.

"The fourth?"

"Tequila girl just after Gaia gave us our rings. Don't really remember that. So there you have it. Experienced, but certainly not in the Hugh Hefner Hall of Fame. But no, there's been no-one for the past two years or so."

"Why not?"

"Cuz I keep goin' back to the steak," he said as he looked away; a sad smile evident on his face. He raised his watch, pressing the button to illuminate his screen before resting his face in the crook of her neck again. "I can't move on from the steak without knowing..."

She shook her head, dazed as she raised her wrists; brushing his cheek with her fingertips. "Wheeler?"

"Mmm hmm," he mumbled against her throat, seemingly content in his current position.

"I am the steak." It wasn't a question but a statement. She waited, seeking confirmation on the fact that she had finally cottoned on to Wheeler's earlier analogy.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling against her neck. "Always."

She nodded, her mouth dry as she contemplated whether or not to continue with her current train of thought. "I… I am a virgin."

"I figured that," he said, his tone reassuring as he hugged her tightly.

"I…" she frowned, doing her best to come up with the right words. Her brain was no longer firing on all cylinders. "I did not set out with the belief that I must… what is the word? Abstain?"

Wheeler nodded but remained quiet, his hands moving slowly through her thick tresses. He knew this would be difficult for her, but was also aware that they needed it all out in the open.

Linka sighed, enjoying the sensation of his fingers twisting through her hair. "I am no longer religious, and opportunities for relationships have certainly come along. I want to... I want to be with someone that way. I just…I just freeze up. I know I block men out. I freeze them out because it is easier, I guess. I think about things too much."

"Yeah, you're an over-thinker all right," he agreed and she jabbed him lightly with her elbow.

"Da. I start over-thinking and I get myself all worried and… what is the word? Flumbered?"

"Flustered?"

"Da. And it just goes around and around. I know I do it, but I cannot stop. I cannot relax enough to let anyone in."

"Alcohol helps with that."

She laughed. "Da. I have often wondered… wanted to lose control, just to get me over that initial… what is the word again? To be worried?"

"Anxiety?"

"Yes. To just let things take their course without worrying about the…" She sighed with frustration. "I am losing my words.

"It's the fumes," he said, also noting with mounting apprehension that Linka was starting to slur her speech. He was feeling sick and sleepy too and the sudden urge to lie down and sleep overtook him.

Her breath caught, her eyes widening as he lowered her gently to the ground, keeping his arm wedged under her neck for support. Her head fell back; her hair fanning around her face and he readjusted himself until he was propped up on his side, looking down upon her.

Her voice had became heartbreakingly small as she regarded him quietly, closing her eyes as he brushed a blonde clump of hair away from her lips.

"Sometimes I look at you," she whispered, her voice breaking as the words came tumbling out. "I see how confident you are. How popular you are. So relaxed and easy-going. And I wonder if you or anyone else would be truly happy with me? Or if you will be disappointed with me? Who would want me with all of my control issues and… and the fact that I have no real life experience, or common interests with anyone. That maybe I am just meant to be alone."

"Linka," he breathed, completely alarmed as he saw the tell-tale silver tracks of tears running down her cheeks, visible even in the gloomy light. "You need to stop denying yourself a life! Sometimes you've just gotta' let your guard down and let things happen."

"Wheeler, I have never even had a boyfriend," she said bitterly, wiping her eyes. "Why would anyone..."

"How can you even… Christ, babe! You've had musicians, scientists and even a member of the Spanish Royal Family chasing down your phone number in the last six months alone."

"But I do not want them, I want you!" she cried, raising her bound wrists and sobbing into her hands.

"Oh God, baby," he murmured, tightening his arm around her neck and pulling her in close. She was trembling against him as he placed his other palm against her cheek. He leaned down, nudging her hands with his forehead. "Really wishing this conversation was being played out in front of the TV in the common room, instead of being stuck here in Plunder's shitty fireworks fun factory."

She gasped; a hiccup bubbling out through her outstretched fingers as her eyes flicked to Wheeler's watch as he checked the time.

9:44

"They are not coming, Yankee. I am so sorry…" she sobbed, wiping her eyes again as her exhausted gaze flicked towards the green glow emanating from the far wall. She felt moisture collecting under her nose and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Wheeler's breath caught. He tilted his head, analysing her shadowy face with fear as he squinted in the darkness. "I think you're bleeding, babe."

"What?" she whimpered, surrendering to another coughing fit as Wheeler grabbed his jacket and applied pressure to the side of her nose in an effort to stem the blood. "Is it bad?"

The American removed his arm from beneath her neck, smoothing her hair away from her face as he held the jacket steady. "It's the chemicals eatin' away at the blood vessels."

"Oh," she murmured, turning onto her side and reaching for his free hand. He grasped hers tightly, lifting the handcuffs and readjusting the chain she was tethered with.

"I vote we lay down and go to sleep," he said, dropping down onto his back and turning to face her. "But if we wake up and everything's okay, I'm gonna make a suggestion."

"Hmm," Linka replied, her eyes fluttering and her breathing laboured. He knew she was on the verge of unconsciousness. The jacket was tossed aside and he huddled in close, pressing his body firmly against hers.

"If we wake up… no more of this back or forth bullshit. No more wasted time. No more regrets." He smiled gently at her, nuzzling her nose with his own and was rewarded with her beautiful smile. "Just you and me; a bar in New Orleans and some disgustingly sweet cocktails. Maybe some shots… although definitely NOT tequila. And we'll see where the night takes us. Deal?"

"Da. You can hold me to that," Linka whispered, barely audible as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer against his chest and tilting her chin up. Her eyes fluttered open and the anxiety and uncertainty about their current circumstances drifted away. If he was going down, he couldn't think of a better person to share it with.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against her own and she arched towards him, raising her wrists and settling them around his neck. He grasped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, feeling her fingers twining through his hair, along with the metal chain of her handcuffs bumping against the back of his neck.

She breathed out through her nose, kissing him again softly. She closed her eyes once more, not noticing Wheeler unhooking his watch and tossing it towards the steel door. He was done.

"Love you, baby," he whispered against her ear, holding her tightly. "Always have, always will."

She tucked her head under his chin and sighed, ready for the inevitable. "I love you too, Jake."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. I really love reading them. Two more chapters to go, methinks. A glimpse into the remaining three Planeteers...

 **Denouement**

 **Chapter Three**

The local police station was literally a sandstone box with an office, an interview room and a cell. Located in the middle of town, the local sheriff wasn't even in uniform, but had arrived promptly after receiving a call from one of his officers.

Dressed in jeans and a singlet, the sheriff looked a little overwhelmed at the amount of personnel beginning to encroach on his little town.

Kwame sat on the edge of a cluttered desk; watching on as the local law enforcement grilled the man in the interview room, who was currently sitting a little too casually in his chair.

Plunder was giving them nothing. Plausible deniability. Kwame narrowed his eyes with contempt, watching through the one-way window as Plunder filed his nails without a care in the world as he answered the officers questions as vaguely as possible.

The African glanced towards the front entrance regularly. He felt unsettled. Uneasy. Gi was in the parking area filling in the missing details to the state law enforcement. The HAZMAT team had also just arrived. The suits had been unpacked and Kwame could see people beginning to climb into them, ready to begin the 5 minute journey back to the so-called "recycling _plant"_ and it's highly toxic contents.

Kwame drummed his fingernails on the table, a nervous energy settling over him. There had been no sign or even a signal from Linka and Wheeler for over two hours now and he was concerned, to say the least. Ma-Ti was still at the plant, searching for them while Kwame and Gi had returned with Plunder and Greedly. There was no sign of Argos Bleak either… and that worried Kwame even more.

If Looten Plunder was the ideas man, Argos Bleak was the implementer. The mercenary got things done, and was very efficient at whatever job Plunder designated.

Kwame sighed, looking up as Gi walked inside. She threw a glare at Plunder through the glass as the persistent polluter refused to answer any more questions, continuing to file his nails with a small smirk on his face.

"Plunder given anything up, yet?"

Kwame shook his head. "No. The man is as slippery as an eel."

"Creep," she muttered, still glaring at Plunder.

"Any word?"

"Nothing," Gi replied worriedly, pushing aside some papers and taking a seat beside him. "Ma-Ti's freaking out. He can't reach them. He feels that something's wrong."

Kwame's shoulders slumped. He placed a reassuring hand on Gi's shoulders and sighed. "It will be fine, Gi. Wheeler is probably up to his usual mischief, and I'm sure Linka…"

He stopped suddenly, watching the contents of a half-empty glass of water beside him begin to vibrate. The ground rumbled for a moment and a resounding bang echoed soon after. Gi recoiled in fright as Kwame jumped to his feet, watching the HAZMAT team outside staring in the direction of the recycling plant. He saw smoke billowing on the horizon and the word 'explosion' being thrown around by the teams outside.

Kwame's wide eyes travelled towards the one way mirror, his heart thumping loudly as he watched two officers bolt from the interview room, leaving a third one behind. He watched in mounting horror as Plunder leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands behind his head with an utterly delighted grin on his face.

"I told you…. you have absolutely nothing on me," Plunder drawled. He looked up at the lone officer guarding the door, dusting off the green lapels on his jacket. "But you might wanna' mention to those eco-brats that they have a spot to fill. Or two…"

A high-pitched buzzing sound invaded Kwame's ears as raw panic washed over him. He stood, knocking the glass of water to the floor but it failed to even register in his mind.

"Kwame?" Gi's voice was high and shaky. She clasped a hand over her mouth; her eyes wide as waves of panic settled upon her. She looked towards their leader, trembling as she blinked back tears, desperately seeking reassurance from him. But Kwame was already gone; his feet barely touching the ground as he ran full-pelt towards the Geo-Cruiser.

Gi launched herself off the desk and tore off after him. The screen door flung open as she barged through the entrance and sprinted through the throng of people jumping into action outside.

The door rebounded off the wall, bouncing several times against frame until it came to a halt. And then the room was silent once more, save for the rhythmic sanding coming from the speakers connected to the interview room.

* * *

She was numb. They were silent as they flew back to the plant together. Various scenarios flashed through Gi's mind, each one worse than the next. Swearing quietly to herself, she wiped away fresh tears as she recalled the last time she'd seen Wheeler.

"You owe me 20 bucks," the American had called over his shoulder to Kwame as he'd set off to look for Linka. Gi had rolled her eyes, assuming that he and Kwame had some sort of wager going. Ma-Ti had felt the first blow to the back of Linka's head and had given Wheeler a general direction to head in. Gi then watched him jog away, heading in the direction of the water towers.

That was the last they'd heard of either them, despite Ma-Ti's persistent attempts to reach them.

 _God, I hope they were together._

They landed the Geo-Cruiser, powering down and breaking into a run as soon as they alighted. Emergency services were already on site, hovering around the blast area and Kwame grabbed Gi's hand, weaving through the throng of people.

Gi raised her ring and contacted Ma-Ti, who responded immediately with a visual image of his location.

 _I'm here. I'm tailing Argos Bleak, he's sneaking around. Something is wrong, he looks positively pissed-off about something._

Kwame nodded his head in the direction of the water towers, away from the blast site. He started walking, pulling Gi along with him.

* * *

 _What on earth is he doing?_

Ma-Ti narrowed his eyes, watching on as Bleak entered the water-tower structure, striding purposefully and clutching a small bag in his hands. The heart planeteer crept forward and followed him into the structure, spotting Bleak's shoulders disappearing behind what seemed like a wall of tools. The wall lay slightly ajar, revealing a hidden tunnel about two metres wide, descending deep within the ground.

He focused on the images and landmarks and pushed them telepathically to the others, giving them a visual map to work from. Ma-Ti passed through and stayed close to the walls, feeling the humidity begin to rise the deeper he walked.

The tunnel widened into a small room, consisting of a desk and several trolleys lying pressed-up against the wall. He watched on from the shadows as Bleak approached what resembled a huge circular steel door, with a smaller circular handle.

"God-damn fuses," he heard Bleak mutter as the bald man placed his torch in his mouth, wrenching the handle in a counter-clockwise direction and pushing the door inwards. The door creaked and groaned loudly and Ma-Ti watched on, the darkness beyond illuminated in parts only by the torch beam.

A strong industrial odour assaulted Ma-Ti's senses and he crept forward again, stepping inside the space. Bleak's flashlight picked up drums and oozing barrels littering the path. The beam briefly settled upon a pillar towards the middle of the cavern and Ma-Ti's heart dropped as he spotted a pair of sneakers, attached to legs that were still and unmoving.

 _They're here, they're here! I've got them, guys!_

But there was no response from his team-mate's above ground, and Ma-Ti quickly realized the reason for Wheeler and Linka's lack of communication.

 _Toxins._

He watched as Bleak pulled something out of his bag and placed it on top of an oil drum, hunching over a device with green numbers blinking.

00:00

Anger flared through Ma-Ti; his body shaking with barely contained rage at the knowledge that his friends had come within a hair's breadth of being blown up, save for a dodgy fuse. He realised that Bleak had obviously rigged several detonations to blow simultaneously... And by sheer blind luck, this one has evidently failed.

And Bleak was now back, intent on finishing the job properly.

Ma-Ti silently moved forwards, reaching for a discarded metal pole and gripping it tightly within his ring hand. Bleak's torch dropped off the drum and clattered to the ground, rolling a few inches before stopping. For a moment Ma-Ti could see Linka's thick blonde hair lying matted and tangled within a pool of chemicals on the ground.

His fist clenched and he took two steps forward, raising the bar and swinging it with all his might. Bleak dropped like a sack of potatoes, landing heavily on the rocky surface. Ma-Ti grabbed the spare fuses, breaking them apart and tossing them, before retrieving the flashlight and running towards his friends.

He dropped to his knees beside them, noting with distress that the pair were embraced, with Wheeler half-covering Linka's body with his own… no doubt a vain attempt to provide her a modicum of protection from the blast. Ma-Ti gently gripped Wheeler's shoulders and rolled him onto his side, noting in horror the blood matting his shirt and Linka's pale face beneath him.

He could see the steady rise and fall of Wheeler's shoulders. Pressing his fingers against Linka's pulse, he was relieved beyond words to find one, although it was weak and thready.

Ma-Ti's eyes settled on the handcuffs linking the Russian's wrists, which were joined to a larger chain tethered to the pillar they were lying beside. Wheeler was unburdened by restraints however and the blank spots began to fill in, giving him a clearer picture of what went down. A deep sense of pride filled him, knowing that the American had at some point made the choice to stay with her.

 _Wouldn't have expected anything less of you, my friend._

"Be right back guys, I promise," he said softly, squeezing Wheeler's shoulder. With a cursory glance towards Argos Bleak, he stood and high-tailed it out of the cavern, intent on bringing help.

 **Authors note:** Cocktails in New Orleans is definitely on the drawing board, for those who have PM'd me ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Denouement**

 **Chapter Four**

She blinked, viewing the world through the white glow of half-lidded eyes. Shapes moved past her but nothing she could rationalise. Nothing that made sense. Yellow blobs moved within her field of vision; large and lumbering amongst the spectrum of colours her brain was struggling to decode.

Every now and again a blob drifted close to her and she would reach out, fingers outstretched. But small, gentle hands would always guide her back again, smoothing her hair back from her clammy face and talking in low, soothing tones.

Alternatively hot and cold, tremors wracked her body at irregular intervals. A churning sensation in the pit of her stomach began to register. Linka groaned, reaching blindly for the hands currently wiping down her forehead and used them to haul herself up into a sitting position. The Russian swayed as she clapped her hand over her mouth. Her brain didn't register the object pressed into her lap until it was too late.

Grasping the edge of the stretcher, she vomited. Her hair fell over her face as she leaned over, retching, her stomach contracting violently. She felt a cool touch on the back of her neck and felt a body drop down beside her as she sat upright, shivering uncontrollably.

"You okay, Lin?"

 _Gi._

Linka slumped against her friend, taking ragged breaths inwards as another wave of nausea hit. Gi placed her arm over the Russian's trembling shoulders and raised the container to Linka's chin. She grabbed hold of it and vomited again, tears springing to the corner of her eyes as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

The blonde gasped, sweaty and flushed as Gi pulled her hair away from her face.

"You okay?" she asked again, the worry evident in her tone. "Poor darlin'."

Linka nodded and swallowed, still hunched over her container. She gazed upwards, noting the flurry of activity around her. Men and women in yellow protective suits bustled about, along with police and firemen engaged in various jobs.

A vehicle rumbled past and she blinked, looking around and noticing for the first time she was seated on a stretcher bed inside a makeshift casualty tent. Linka focused on the fire truck for a moment, watching it lumber towards the maintenance areas and store rooms they'd seen in Plunder's fakey-fake state-of-the-art recycling plant.

Only it wasn't there any more.

She stared in confusion, gripping the bowl tightly. The maintenance area had been replaced by blackened, smoking foundations and twisted wreckage. The ground surrounding the area was charred; flaring outwards in a radial pattern.

 _Explosion._

She gasped and sat upright, her eyes wide as everything came flooding back.

 _Wheeler._

"What…" she croaked, scanning the area wildly. "Where is Wh…?"

"Shhh," Gi soothed, pointing towards the other side of the tent. Amidst the burn victims and employees suffering shock, she spotted his distinctive red hair after a moment of searching.

He was sitting hunched-over on his own stretcher bed; his head resting between his knees and his hands tightly clasped over his head. Ma-Ti was sitting with him. The Heart Planeteer sensed their attention and raised his hand, keeping the other firmly on Wheeler's shoulder.

Relief overcame her and she shuddered, wiping away tears. Gi encouraged her to lie down again and she didn't resist. Her body ached and she felt sapped of energy.

"You found us…" she rasped and Gi nodded, reaching for the blonde's hand.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Looks like Plunder had three devices set up. They were burying the evidence."

Linka closed her eyes, tossing her free arm over her face as she breathed out slowly. Squeezing Gi's hand, she cleared her throat. "Thank God you found us in time… we were beginning to get worried."

"We… we didn't," Gi whispered; focusing her troubled gaze on a point just past the Russian's head-anything to avoid having to cope with Linka's bewildered expression. "Lin, we…. we found you both well after the timer had finished it's countdown."

"What? I don't…" Linka's voice trailed away. Her jaw dropped as she considered the implications. "I don't understand?"

"The fuse in your bomb failed," Gi whispered, her voice emotional and unsteady. "Only reason we found you guys was because Bleak came back to finish the job."

Linka's mouth worked soundlessly as a chill descended down her spine… and it had nothing to do with the side effects of the contamination she'd experienced.

"What? But the other devices, they detonated, da?" Linka asked softly, staring out at the smoke still billowing outside.

"Yeah. Your bomb was supposed to go off at the same time." Gi squeezed her tightly, resting her chin on Linka's shoulder. "Can't help but think you both have a guardian angel. Someone was definitely looking out for you…"

"Da," she said, her voice husky as she glanced towards Wheeler. He was sitting upright now and talking quietly with Ma-Ti; a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He rubbed his face tiredly and she saw the red tinged eyes, unruly hair and pale skin. His gaze settled on hers for a moment and he stilled; giving her a small smile.

Any further thought processes were interrupted by Kwame entering. He glanced down at Linka and greeted her warmly but she rolled over, away from his concerned expression as she struggled to process what Gi had said.

 _We should be dead._

Kwame motioned for Gi to accompany him outside for a moment. With a worried glance towards her friend, Gi followed, disappearing into the crowd outside. Linka curled into a foetal position, feeling the tell-tale contractions rising again in the pit of her stomach. There was nothing left to purge but her belly hadn't received that particular memo.

The retching returned with a vengeance. Linka grasped for the container and heaved into it, sobbing as her body shook uncontrollably. Wiping her face, she noted streaks of brown blood, remnants from her earlier nose bleed.

The minutes ticked by. Tucking her chin into her chest, she watched on as more people were carried in and moved about. A team of men moved past her, wearing jackets with EPA insignias across the back. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to quell the churning sensation.

She eventually felt her body lurch slightly as the stretcher sagged under someone else's weight. A blanket was carefully tucked around her and an arm followed, wrapping around her waist as a warm presence nestled in behind her.

"Doesn't last long, babe." His voice was a mere croak and she tilted her face back, feeling the press of his lips against the back of her head.

"You are going to break my stretcher, Yankee," she said sleepily, however she grasped his hand tightly within her own, anchoring him into place.

"They can fuckin' bill me," he grumbled.

She smiled at that, folding and pulling his arm upwards against her chest. The spasms in her belly had subsided for now and she breathed out slowly, feeling lulled by the sensation of his touch sliding back and forth over her knuckles and between her fingers.

She slept.

* * *

They were cleared to leave within a few hours. Linka was handed medication for the nausea and promised to report for a baseline blood test the next day, which would be followed by another within two weeks. This was due to the chromium and lead deposits which were found discovered amongst the wastage. The risk of over-exposure was small, but it was a routine course of action.

The Planeteers headed back to their apartment, weary and exhausted. They shuffled inside and took turns showering. Gathering in the living area, they debriefed about the events of the day while Kwame popped out to grab some dinner.

Linka's eyes continually settled on the American, desperate to have some time alone with him to talk, but it just wasn't to be. The others consistently lingered around them, probably grateful for their presence after the events of the day.

Kwame returned within half an hour with some Thai food, however as soon as the smell gravitated toward Wheeler he stood; his face turning white as he held his hand up and looked ready to say something. Evidently he changed his mind, clutching his stomach and hurrying away, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Linka watched him go with sympathetic eyes. She toyed with her food but pushed it aside in the end. Her stomach lurched too at the thought of eating.

Gi bid the rest of the men goodnight and she stood, pulling Linka to her feet and dragging her into one of the bedrooms. She closed the door behind them and Linka watched on as the Water Planeteer rustled around in her suitcase. Linka quickly dressed before stretching out on one of the single beds. Grasping a pillow, she clutched it against her mouth and groaned into it.

"Quite a day?" Gi said, propping her own pillow against the head board and slapping it several times to achieve the desired softness.

"Mmm hmm," Linka mumbled; the noise muffled by the cotton and downy feathers. She dropped her hands by her sides but left the pillow in place, lying slightly crooked across her face.

Gi couldn't help but grin at her friend's slightly erratic behaviour. Linka seemed rather distracted. "What happened down there? You both scared the daylights out of us."

"Bleak found me. Took my ring and…" Linka turned her head towards Gi and the pillow fell to the floor. She sighed. "Well… I think you know the rest."

"Did you get the files?"

" _Der'mo,_ " she swore, glancing at the clothes lying over the top of her suitcase. She knew the thumb drive wasn't in the pocket where she'd stashed it. "Nyet. Bleak must have taken it."

"All good," Gi reassured her. "They'll have enough to take them down. Here."

Linka felt something fall on the bed beside her leg. She reached down and grasped her ring, smiling at Gi. "Oh, _Spasiba._ "

"Feelin' better?"

She rubbed her face. "Da. My stomach is a little creasy but better than before."

"Queasy," Gi laughed. She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands, watching the Russian carefully. "What was it like down there? You know, waiting for…?"

"Oh, I had the 'duke of distraction' locked in there with me, Gi," Linka replied fondly, reaching for her toiletry bag and retrieving a small jar from within. "He kept me from thinking about things too much."

"Duke of distraction," Gi giggled, finding the term highly amusing. "That's a good one."

Linka grinned, stretching and turning onto her side to face Gi. She clutched the jar in her hands, smiling as she ran her fingers over the label. "Da. We just talked… mostly."

"When Ma-Ti found you guys, you were both…" Gi pulled the covers over her body and curled up, trying to think of a tactful way to phrase her statement. Failing that, she simply clasped and unclasped her outstretched fingers several times in order to demonstrate. "…together. Cuddling."

"Da," Linka breathed, blushing somewhat. "It got a little scary towards the end. Intense."

"Intense… like, how?" Gi prompted, her eyes twinkling. "C'mon. I want details."

Linka remained evasive however. Reflective. She bit down on her thumb as warm flush enveloped her face and chest. She wasn't quite ready to share the specifics of what went down: wanting to keep it private and sacred for just a little longer.

Gi sighed, knowing better than to pry. They lay in silence for a while, listening to the boys shuffling around in the room next to theirs. They heard muffled laughter and footsteps, the banging of doors and cabinets.

"He stayed with you." Gi's voice was low in the darkness, trying to appear apathetic on the subject - which, once again, she was failing miserably.

Linka nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "He did."

"There's love there, you know," Gi said softly, her sparkling brown eyes peeking out from the duvet as she regarded her best friend with affection.

"Da. I know, " the Russian admitted a little dreamily, her mind wandering somewhat.

Gi shrugged, readjusting the blankets around her. "Just sayin'."

Linka settled back against the pillows, still holding the glass jar in her hands. She held the shea body butter up to her face and smiled, feeling somewhat blissful as she thought about Gi's comment regarding a guardian angel.

 _A second chance._

"Gi?"

"Mmm?"

"Towards the end… he told me he loved me."

A heartbeat passed between them. She heard the bed springs creak as Gi sat upright, suddenly alert and listening intently.

"Oh… oh wow. That's huge!" Gi whispered, absolutely thrilled for her friend. Wheeler and Linka had been playing the same game of cat and mouse now for several years, much to the sheer frustration of the rest of the team. She sighed, pulling at the threads of the blanket. "He'd take such good care of you, Lin."

"I know," she whispered. "Gi… when are we leaving?"

"No idea. Few days, maybe? Why?"

"I need to go to the hospital tomorrow. For the baseline test. I was thinking, maybe…" Linka pursed her lips. She met Gi's eyes and smiled nervously. "…maybe you could come shopping with me afterwards? I have a few things I want to do… I need your help... I mean, advice... maybe?"

"Sure thing, Lin," she replied, grinning at the Russian. "Absolutely."

"Spasiba."

She heard Gi yawn loudly. "Night, Lin. Glad you're okay."

"Good night, Gi."


	5. Chapter 5

The final chapter ended up at a rather large 7000 words, so I've chopped it in half for continuity purposes. Chapter Six is therefore already written and will be uploaded promptly. Cheers!

 **Denouement**

 **Chapter Five**

"Ugh. Golf sucks." Wheeler sat with his arms crossed, staring ahead at the television with an unimpressed look on his face. "Who wants to watch a bunch of overweight guys with sticks smack the shit outta' stuff."

Kwame tutted, rolling his eyes as he stretched his legs out from his position on the sofa. "Golf is a gentleman's game. It involves skill and precision."

"Lucky I aint a gentleman," the American muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter. He sighed, reaching for another apple. His appetite was back with a vengeance and he was taking full advantage of it. "God, I'm starving. What are we doin' for lunch?"

Kwame shrugged. "No idea. Ask the girls?"

Wheeler's response was a resigned grunt. He glanced at the closed door to the girls room, curious as to what they were up to. They'd been very secretive the past few days. He'd awoken the day before expecting to head to the hospital with Linka for their requested blood tests, only to find her already gone.

Granted, awakening at the grand old time of 11:30 probably hadn't helped. Plus, after dodging a bomb detonation by the skin of his teeth, he'd figured he deserved to hit the snooze button a few dozen times at the very least.

Dropping down onto the sofa beside Kwame, he took a bite of his apple, glancing again at the closed door. It frustrated the hell out of him that he and Linka hadn't had the chance to discuss anything after their little rendezvous underground.

His immediate worry was that Linka would do what she normally did in situations such as these: shut him out. That worry faded quickly, however, to be replaced by cautious optimism. When she had been present, whether it be for meals or otherwise, she smiled at him often and her touch lingered for longer than was necessary.

He sighed. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe.

"Did you see that shot?" Kwame pointed at the screen.

"Nah, man. Missed it. I'm devastated. ..Seriously."

"I can rewind it for you," Kwame said, a sly smile on his face.

"Please don't."

Kwame laughed. "You have the attention span of an ant, Wheeler."

"You know ants can carry 100 times their own body weight?"

"Watching documentaries, my friend?" Ma-Ti walked into the small kitchenette and regarded them with amusement. "I am surprised."

"Nah. Read it on the back of a milk carton," Wheeler replied swiftly, earning chuckles from the others.

Ma-Ti grinned, filling a glass with water and leaning against the counter. "Are we heading home tomorrow, Kwame?"

"Yes, definitely," he replied, looking up as Linka walked into the room. "I think we'll… uh, wow Linka."

Kwame couldn't help but stare in surprise as the blonde moved purposefully through the kitchen, her high heels clacking over the tiles. The African's jaw hung open as he took in the floaty pastel lemon-coloured dress, sitting snuggly across her chest and showing a great deal more cleavage than he'd ever seen the Russian display.

Thin straps were attached to the fabric gathered under her arms and tied behind her neck in a halter style; the ends trailing down her back and highlighting the smooth, tanned skin beneath.

The dress tucked in at the waist, before flaring out and falling to just above her knees. She leaned over and retrieved her handbag from the floor, before straightening and giving them a self-conscious wave. Her hair was out (another absolute rarity), curling in loose, tumbling waves over her right shoulder.

Red lipstick completed the look. Kwame raised his eyes to Ma-Ti, who looked equally baffled. Kwame thought of Linka as a little sister, but even he had to admit: she looked absolutely stunning.

He turned to Wheeler and was unsurprised to see him staring at her, apparently dumbstruck and for once in his life, speechless. No wolf whistles, no inappropriate comments, nothing. Kwame nudged him in the ribs and the American jolted, but never took his steely blue gaze off her.

"Wow, Linka," Ma-Ti volunteered, curious to say the least. "You look beautiful. Are you going somewhere?"

"Da," she said, smiling shyly at them. "Kwame, is it all right if we borrow the Geo-Cruiser for the night?"

"Off course," Kwame replied, assuming she and Gi were heading off for a night out. He scratched his head as he glanced again at Wheeler who had yet to take his eyes off the gorgeous Russian. The American sat quietly, biting his lip and seemed deep in thought. "Have a good night and… uh, be careful."

"Don't forget the pepper spray," Ma-Ti added helpfully. "You'll need it."

" _Spasiba_ ," she said softly, laughing as she threw her hand bag over her shoulder. To Kwame's utter astonishment, she approached Wheeler and nudged his leg with her foot, reaching for his hand and pulling him to his feet.

Kwame watched on as the American half walked/half staggered in line behind her, glancing back at his stunned team mates with an almost comical look of amazement on his face. Linka's dress swished prettily about her long legs, her floral perfume trailing behind her. The door closed softly behind them and the pair disappeared from sight.

They remained silent for a moment, still processing what they had just seen. Gi entered the living area and leaned casually next to Ma-Ti, a smug smile on her lips.

"What was that?" Kwame finally blurted out, running his hand through his hair and grinning at Ma-Ti. "What just happened?"

"He's having steak tonight," Gi replied cheekily, earning more confused stares from the men. "Poor guy has no idea what's about to hit him."

"What? Did we miss something?"

She shook her head, laughing. "Never mind. Let's go eat."

* * *

"You didn't even give me the chance to get changed," he laughed, relaxing into his chair and shaking his head. "Talk about throwin' me for six!"

"Sorry," Linka said, smiling at him. "I wanted to surprise you."

"It worked," he admitted. He watched her closely; even now, still dazed by her company and her appearance. He sighed, glancing down at his black t-shirt and jeans. "You're lookin' like a milllion bucks and I look homeless."

She shook her head. " _Nyet_. You look great."

He focused on her hands as she clutched the menu: small and dainty, with red painted nails peeking around the edges of the paper. He hadn't noticed them in the days previous and he nodded towards them. "Manicure with Gi?"

"Da," she said. She wiggled her fingers at him. "I figured I deserved it after the day we had. My hands were a little wrecked."

"What? From the toxic waste or the hand-cuffs?"

"Both," she laughed, "although I think I broke a nail while you were tossing me around on your hips down there."

"Hey, I take no responsibility for that," he said, raising his hands palm up and giving her a cheeky smile. "Got the job done, didn't it?

"Mmm," she said, returning her eyes to the menu. "True."

He gazed at her as she read from the entree section, her brow furrowed with concentration. He noted the long dark lashes against her cheeks and the small hoops attached to delicate ears lobes.

She was perfect.

Linka brushed her hair away from her eyes with a smile as the waiter came to take their order.

"I think I will have the pasta." Linka peered over her menu at the red head as he ordered his meal. The waiter collected the menus and bustled off towards the kitchen, and she raised her eyebrows at him for a moment. "A hamburger, Yankee?"

He shrugged and winked at her as she raised the wine glass to her lips. "Yeah. Might be in the mood for steak a little later." She flushed pink and choked on her wine.

"Sorry," he said with grin, sounding anything but apologetic. "My bad."

"Hmmm. I am just glad to have my appetite back."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Me too. I like your dress, babe."

"Spasiba, Yankee… I bought it yesterday." She smoothed the dress out over her thighs and touched her hair a little self consciously. "Gi helped me choose it."

He twirled the stem of his wine glass as he met her eyes. "You look beautiful."

Seemingly pleased at his comment, she leaned forward with a radiant smile. The gesture afforded him an appetising view of creamy white cleavage and he swallowed, reaching for his wine glass again and tipping the remainder of the contents down his throat.

 _God-damn it. Gonna be a long night._

"So what else did you ladies get up to?"

"Well, the ends of my hair smelt like paint thinner," she complained, fiddling with the curls lying over her shoulder. "So a trip to the hair salon was in order… amongst other things."

"Uh huh." He smiled and leant back in his chair, distracted by a particularly loud party of young men who had entered and approached the drinks counter. "I'm just glad to be outta' the apartment. Was startin' to get cabin fever… Kwame and his damn golf. Want another drink?"

She nodded, pointing at a creamy-chocolate confection from the cocktail menu. He stood, heading towards the bar and disappearing amongst the mass of warm bodies. The restaurant, in the centre of the bustling French Quarter was quite crowded now, filled with trendy young people and she sat happily, observing the interactions with interest.

Waiters bustled past with trays of food and a jazz band played in the far corner; it's members looking far grungier than she would have expected. She had to admit, the place had a great atmosphere.

Linka jumped slightly as her drink was placed down in front of her. Smiling in gratitude, she took a sip and watched as Wheeler dropped into his seat with his beer. He jacked his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"Couple of guys over there asked if you were single."

"What did you tell them?"

He grinned. "Told em' you prefer women," he said, cackling wickedly as she reached out to swat him.

"Wheeler!" she laughed, rolling her eyes. "You are incorrigible." A thought occurred to her and she frowned. "The other day, when we were in the… you know. You said something about the Spanish Royal Family? Someone wanting my number?"

"Uh huh," he said, staring intently at his hands all of a sudden.

"No one… no one royal has asked for my number, Yankee."

"Oh, really?"

" _Nyet_ ," she said, an amused smile on her face. "Anything you wish to say on that matter."

"Look," he explained patiently, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief over the top of the menu. "If some pompous idiot makes the dumb choice to ask me for your phone number, I'm gonna get a digit or three wrong."

" _Durak_ ," she muttered. She wrinkled her nose, twirling the cherry swizzle stick in her drink. "Who was it… just out of interest?"

"One of the cousins, the one with the Lamborghini."

Linka shook her head and sighed theatrically. "I could have been a princess."

"You already are a princess," he smiled. "You know, just without the jewels… and the castle. And the obscene wealth."

She giggled. "I need to do something to supplement my wage, Yankee. The Russian government pays me in peanuts."

"I though they paid you in rubles," he teased. "How much we talkin' here?"

She sighed, resting her chin in her hands as she blew a breath outwards. "My salary would be about one million rubles per year."

Wheeler did the sums in his head and was slightly perturbed at what he came up with. "Wow. That's not a salary, that's pocket money…"

"What do you receive from your government? I assumed we all got around the same?"

"Ah, evidently not…" He shuffled in his seat and took another sip of his beer. Linka sat watching him expectantly and he made a face. "A hundred grand."

"What!" she spluttered, turning red. " _Nyet_! That's six times what I am earning. How is that…"

Wheeler raised his hands in mock defeat. "Hey, don't blame me, take it up with Viktor… or Vladamir. Vadim? Whatever the hell his name is…"

"One hundred thousand dollars," she muttered. A perfectly painted nail was jabbed in Wheeler's direction. "Well, you are buying dinner now, Yankee."

"Deal," he laughed, highly entertained seeing her so irate. "In all honesty, the money tends to sit in my bank account gaining interest. Best thing about living on an island with free rent and board."

"True," Linka said, making a mental note to contact her embassy. She looked up as the meals arrived and were placed in front of them. She speared a piece of rigatoni and chewed thoughtfully.

"So… Jake."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Polina?

She poked her tongue out. "How old were you when you started… misbehaving?"

"Uh, about eleven. Junior high. Got in with the wrong crowd."

"What did you do?" she asked quietly, watching him closely as he dunked a fry in ketchup. "Apart from the whole 'motorbike' thing."

"Stupid stuff. Cuttin' school. Shoplifting. Breaking and entering." He sighed, meeting her eyes. "Robbery. Local beat cop had my parents on speed dial."

" _Bozhe moy_ ," she whispered. "You certainly started young."

He smiled, a gesture that didn't quite touch his eyes. "When you grow up in the slums of New York, you either eat or be eaten." He paused, smirking. "That's another expression, by the way. Need to look it up?"

She extended her leg and kicked him under the table. " _Nyet_ , smarty pants."

He sniggered. "Just checkin'."

They sat and finished their meals, listening to the live music and chatting in between mouthfuls. Linka was now onto her third cocktail and was feeling pleasantly mellow, her leg bouncing steadily to the beat of the music. She was enjoying herself immensely.

Linka pushed her plate away, feeling full. The restaurant was becoming increasingly louder and a nearby group of people had launched into a remarkably flat chorus of Happy Birthday To You

She watched him for a moment, content to let her eyes wander over his face, shoulders and down to his hands. Tearing up the paper napkin with her fingers, she smiled to herself as she recalled their confessions while underground.

"We never finished playing 'truth or truth', Yankee…"

"Huh?" Wheeler leaned forward, unable to hear her over the noise of the band and the packed tables. The volume on the band's amplifier seemed to have been turned up several notches.

She watched on as he picked up his chair and shifted it, placing himself to her left. He settled beside her, before leaning his arm on the back of her chair. His head tilted towards hers as she tried again. "I said, we never finished playing 'truth or truth'. I found it… very interesting."

He snorted. "That's because you were asking some pretty personal questions, babe," he laughed, leaning back and finishing his beer. "Mine were pretty tame in comparison."

Linka shrugged, popping a cherry into her mouth. "I am ready for more."

"All right," he said, flagging the waiter down. He dazzled her with a cheeky grin; a plan evidently forming in his head. "Let's make it interesting, then."

Linka watched him speak briefly to the waiter and she narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was up to. "What are you…"

"Gimme a word."

"What?"

He laughed, leaning in towards her again. "Gimme a word or a phrase you use a lot."

She raised her hands in confusion. "Why?"

"Drinking game. We'll take turns asking questions like before, but if you say a trigger word, you gotta drink a shot."

"Oh," she said, scratching her chin as she considered her options. "All right. What about… the?"

"Nah. Too easy. I'll be rolling you outta here after ten minutes."

"Uh, _nyet_?"

He paused, thinking about it. "Yeah, that'll work. What about mine?"

"I think yours should be any swear word," she muttered, finishing another cocktail and placing it with the empty glasses. They clinked together loudly and a few toppled over onto the surface of their table. Linka gasped as she darted forward with unsteady hands in order to put them upright again. " _Bozhe moy_ , look at me. This is not going to end well."

Wheeler laughed, clearing room as the drinks tray arrived with about a dozen shots contained within. "Yeah, it's gonna get messy. You ready?"

Linka sat with her hands clasped in her lap, eyeing the contents of the tray with her mouth slightly ajar. She glanced up at him, suddenly wanting something clarified and in concrete before the shots began and she was too bamboozled to think straight.

"All right. Truth or truth, Yankee."

"Go for it."

"Um… are we…do you want to head home tonight at some point?" she said loudly, struggling to be heard over the band kicking up again. "I mean, back to Albuquerque? Or are we staying here?"

He shrugged. "Well… I've had a wine and about six beers, so that rules me outta flying. And that's not taking into account these…" He motioned towards the vodka shots and met her eyes.

"Oh."

He pointed upwards, leaning in again to be heard. "They've got rooms upstairs… but no expectations," he assured her, reaching for her hand. "But I am countin' on some cuddle-time with ya."

Linka laughed and nodded, squeezing his fingers and feeling relieved. "All right."

"Truth or truth, babe?"

"Truth."

"How long do ya' think you'll do this for?"

"What?" she asked, confused. "Being a Planeteer?"

"Yeah. Still plannin' on blowing bad guys away in ten years time?"

Linka sighed. " _Nyet_ , definitely not. I do not think we would survive for that long," she said with a hint of sarcasm. She tucked her hair behind her ears, glancing upwards at the smirk on Wheelers face. He pointed towards the tray of shots with his eyebrows raised.

"What? Oh, for goodness.…" The blonde grabbed a glass and raised it to her lips. She quickly swallowed the liquid, grimacing at the taste. "Oh, that's horrible."

"You're gonna suck at this. I can tell."

"Shut up, Yankee," she muttered, replacing the glass upside down into the tray. "Truth or truth?"

"Truth."

"When you first met us… What were your first impressions… of us? When you met us." She tilted her head, knowing her phrasing was horrendously befuddled.

"Argh," he groaned, shaking his head. "Seriously?"

"It is a valid question, Wheeler!"

He slumped in his chair and ran his hands through his hair, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Christ. All right. I initially may have thought you guys were… a little on the nerdy side. That opinion changed, might I add," he clarified

"I figured that," she said smartly, motioning towards the middle of the table. "Vodka."

"Huh? What did I say?"

"Christ."

"That's not a swear word?"

"You are taking the lord's name in vain. Therefore you are swearing." Linka smiled prettily, grasping a shot glass and handing it to the American. She watched him roll his eyes, his throat pulsing as he downed the vodka and skated it back across to her.

"Fine, toots. And for the record, I now think you guys are a fine bunch of Rubens … Even though you're all into some weird shit."

Linka pointed to the drink tray and he groaned, downing another shot.

"What is so weird about us, _svetlyak_?"

"You serious?" He grinned, settling back and tapping his fingers on the back of Linka's chair in time to the music. "You're a classical music freak with a bird fetish. Kwame's got his weird little gardening habits and Ma-Ti's forever tryin' to poison us with his little voodoo concoctions."

"Hey," she exclaimed, reaching in and flicking her finger against his forehead. "Ma-Ti's herbal remedies work."

"They do not," he scoffed. "Horse sh… manure."

"Have you even tried them?"

He chuckled, recalling a particularly bad head cold last year. "Does Ma-Ti chasing me around trying to force-feed me count?"

" _Nyet_." She caught herself and groaned, reaching for a vodka.

"Truth or truth?" He settled back, resting his hand on her bare leg for a moment and giving it a gentle squeeze.

She leaned instinctively towards him, feeling a little warm and flushed. "Truth."

"You gonna' let me take you out again?" She felt his arm wrap firmly around her shoulders and she shifted in her seat, tilting her head to the side as his wandering fingers found the graceful curve of her throat.

" _Da_. Maybe. Will you behave yourself?"

"Do you think I'm capable of behaving myself."

Linka smiled, leaning her head back limply against his arm and grinning up at him. "No."

He tickled her neck and used his free hand to place another shot in front of her. "Bottoms up."

"I did not say _nyet_ , Yankee." She took the glass all the same and drank it.

"Means the same thing. And technically you said it again, but I'll give you a free pass on that."

She giggled, waggling her finger at him. She reached for another shot. "Do not go easy on me, Yankee. Truth or truth."

"Bring it."

He watched her sit upright for a moment, cheeks flushed and her eyes unfocused. She eventually thought better of it, slumping back towards him and snuggling into his side.

"Do you… uh, do you ever regret being a Planeteer?"

Wheeler pursed his lips, thinking long and hard about the question. He watched the Russian with amusement as she twisted around on her chair to face him, pressing her knees between his thighs and leaning forward, fiddling with the seam of his jeans.

"Uh, I wouldn't say I regret it… but I do wonder about my role within the group sometimes."

"How so?"

He frowned, finding it difficult to put his feelings into words: no doubt due to either the vodka haze or the attractive and inebriated blonde sitting opposite.

"Well, you guys brought a lot of knowledge and interests with you when Gaia first called us up. You all had experience in conservation and sustainability…" He reached for a shot and swallowed, meeting Linka's eyes. "… and then there was me. Guess I've always felt like the odd one out."

Linka stared at him, clearly shocked by his revelation. "Wheeler, how can you… how can you think that?"

He sighed. "I dunno. I guess I've always questioned why Gaia would choose me when I have nothing of value to add to the group… compared to you guys, that is." He smiled, reaching for Linka's hand and fiddling with the layer of acrylic on her nails. "I just think I'm probably the most expendable one."

"What? _Nyet_ , Wheeler you are certainly not…"

She sighed, exasperated as Wheeler winked and handed her a shot. She drunk it quickly, tossing it towards the table where it bounced across the surface, coming within a hairs breadth of rolling off the edge. "You are not _expandable_ , Yankee."

"It's all good babe," he said, laughing at her breathless mispronunciation. "It's just something I think about from time to time."

"Wheeler," she began, leaning forward and placing her hands on his knees to steady herself. She felt hot and shaky as the alcohol befuddled her senses but she persevered, concentrating especially hard on her speech patterns. "Gi and I have spoken about this at length. I do not think you understand…"

She sighed, reaching forward and touching his cheek. "If Kwame were to leave, or Gi, or myself… the team would still continue. If you were to leave? The rest of us would walk away."

"Why?" He sounded doubtful, almost unbelieving.

She whipped her hands outwards in frustration and narrowly avoided swiping a discarded beer bottle from the table.

"Because you are the glue that holds us together. If we are the limbs, you are our backbone. We cannot function without you." She smiled, lurching slightly before raising her hand to his chest and flattening a palm against his heart. "You are our soul. It would not be the same without you."

Wheeler regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable as she dropped her hand and leaned back, tilting a little sideways in her chair and a touch embarrassed by her emotional rant.

"Sorry, Wheeler," she mumbled, her cheeks aflame.

He gave her the thumbs up, watching as she spun around in her seat again and balanced her chin on the back of her chair, waving her finger in time to the music. Her back was now exposed to him; tanned, smooth and flawless, with tendrils of curls cascading down the centre.

He was suddenly overcome by the urge to touch her. Wheeler reached for another shot instead and tipped it back, aware of the fact that regardless of his earlier comment about his expectations regarding tonight, it didn't change the fact that he wanted her with a vengeance.

"Wanna get outta' here?"

" _Da_ ," she giggled, rising to her feet and nearly stumbling over her chair. Wheeler stood and threw an arm around her waist to steady her, kissing her temple as she squinted up at him, beaming. "I think I need to use the room that the ladies room uses. The ladies room, _da_ …"

He patted her bottom. "Go do what you have to do. I'll go grab a room."


	6. Chapter 6

**This particular chapter is rated M.** I'll move the entire fic to the correct section later on to avoid people losing it. Thanks so much to my regular reviewers. I find it intriguing that this has been my most popular fic in terms of views per chapter, but the least reviewed!

Anyway, enjoy the drunken raunchiness.

 **Denouement**

 **Chapter Six**

"I am not as drink as you _thunk_ I am, Yankee Noodle."

"You're hammered." Wheeler grinned as he watched her climb the stairs. She was holding tightly onto the handrail and he stayed close behind, intent on catching her in case her balance was compromised. "You got the key?"

She raised it over her head and jingled it. " _Daaaa_. _Da_."

They reached the landing and he paused as the hallway started to spin rapidly. Leaning against the wall, he steadied himself and shoved his hands in his pockets, observing Linka with a smile. She'd removed her heels and was about 10 steps in front of him, walking slowly while extending her feet and toes with her arms balanced outwards.

"What're you doin'?"

"Did you know I used to do ballet?" She did a rather clumsy pirouette and staggered as he approached from behind. She frowned, flicking her hair away from her face. "My teacher was a bit of a _suka_."

"Uh huh," he answered. He shook his head, laughing as she zig-zagged through the corridor, a slight spring in her step. Silken fabric danced around her legs, giving him an all-to-brief glimpse of her toned upper thighs.

"Oooh," she exclaimed, distracted as a breakfast menu hanging from a door handle caught her attention. She lumbered past their room, shoes swinging idly from her index finger as she bent down to inspect the available choices. Wheeler quickly caught up, gripping her by the shoulders and steering her back in the right direction.

"You wanna give me the key?"

" _Nyet_ ," she said, waving him off with her hand and he rolled his eyes: the alcohol had evidently enhanced her stubborn streak. They stopped at the door and he glanced down, noting her painted toenails and dainty feet treading the scuffed carpet below.

He dug his fingers into her waist and she scoffed, jamming an elbow into his ribs while attempting to gain entry. "I am more than capable of… _bozhe moy_ , why are there three locks on this?"

"Oh God," he laughed, watching as she fumbled with the key for several moments. "There's one. You're normally a lot more coordinated than this."

"Well, stop distracting me," she hissed over her shoulder. His hand returned, this time to tickle her neck and the keys slid from her fingers to the floor. "Argh, stop it, _durak_."

"I know what that means, princess," he grinned, lurching forward to retrieve them. He groaned as Linka snatched them first, heading back to the locking mechanism and jamming them into a spot three inches above where they needed to be. "Hey, c'mon. We'll be here till next Tuesday."

"Shut up, Yankee."

"It's like pin the tail on the donkey," he muttered, crossing his arms and watching over her shoulder. "Babe, just give them here…"

She shook her head vigorously as he attempted to grab them. "Wheeler, stop it," she choked, laughing as he grabbed her hands and attempted to pry them away.

Linka shrieked, her voice echoing through the corridor as she wrenched away and turned her back to him, cupping the keys against her stomach.

"All right," he said in a low voice. He shrugged, grabbing her around the waist and attempting to retrieve them by force. Linka was cackling now, out of breath as she squirmed against him.

Dodging another one of Wheeler's incoming hands, she gripped them tightly and raised her fist, shoving the keys down the front of her dress. Dropping her hand, she threw him a smug look over her shoulder.

"Did you just…" Wheeler exclaimed, completely incredulous as he tightened his grip around her. "That's not exactly a deterrent."

She giggled as he jostled her about, nudging up against her back and gently pushing her face-first towards the wall.

Hooking his hand over her shoulder, he put her in a loose headlock. She eventually stopped struggling, gripping his forearm tightly as they swayed together in the dimly-lit corridor. The atmosphere was silent but for their breathing and the electronic buzz coming from the fluorescent lights above them. The arm around her waist tightened and she felt his chin rest against the back of her head.

Suddenly the fun and frivolity had turned into something else entirely. Something shifted, something that was tangible and heavy between them; prickling at her skin and causing the bottom of her stomach to fall away.

She breathed out, resting her forehead against the peeling paintwork as his remaining hand crept upwards. He pushed aside her hair and pressed his mouth against the warm pulse at the base of her throat, hooking two fingers beneath the strapless seam of her dress.

Wheeler lingered there, as if waiting for permission to continue. She sighed, tilting her head to the side and squeezing his arm, encouraging him. His hand slipped under the material and between her breasts, drawing the object out far quicker than she was prepared for… far quicker than she wanted.

The jingle of keys was just audible over the steady thumping of her heart. She shifted slightly, feeling his mouth on her shoulder now as his hand settled flat across her chest, then reaching up to cup her cheek.

A small sound escaped her as he tilted her face towards him. Their lips met in a whisper of a touch, tentative at first; slow and comforting and then rising in intensity. He could taste the vodka on her lips, feel her fingers tighten against his arm as he pulled her closer. Desperate to touch her, he had trodden the precipice all evening and his finely-tuned restraint had just crumbled into oblivion.

His fingers moved inside her dress again, this time slipping under her bra to cup her breast. His hands were wide and warm against her, kneading her gently and causing her to squirm within his embrace. She dropped her forehead against the wall again, breathless and bracing her hands flat against the crumbling plaster as he nestled himself against the curve of her behind.

His thumb and index finger grasped a pert nipple and she moaned, arching back and feeling the hard heat of him through the thick denim. His mouth trailed up over the ridge of her chin, before coming to rest against her ear.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was low and husky and she breathed out slowly, shifting her focus downwards towards the top of her dress… staring at the swell beneath the yellow silken fabric of her bodice and the insistent touch that was causing her toes to curl.

"Oh God," she whimpered as his fingers gently tweaked her again. He brushed his lips along her neck, nuzzling the scented skin. His question was already forgotten as she clenched her fingers against the wall, pressing her flesh further into his hand.

"Do you trust me?" She could feel him smiling against her ear, as if he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

 _Do I trust him?_

But she did trust him. She trusted him with her life, she trusted him with her heart and right now as she trembled and throbbed against him, she felt the desperate need to trust him with her body.

The Russian twisted around to face him and wound her arms tightly around his neck, reaching up on tippy-toes and pressing her mouth hard against his.

Pressing her up against the wall again, Wheeler buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face further upwards. She held onto him for dear life, her knees weak as she gasped against his frantic kisses.

His hands reached down and grasped her thighs, fingers digging firmly into her flesh as she was lifted upwards. Wrapping her legs firmly around his waist, she sunk her hands into his hair and held him to her, their movements hurried and urgent.

A hand slipped under her bottom to support her weight and she heard the rustle of keys again. Wheeler unlocked the door and lumbered inside with her, kicking it shut with the heel of his foot. Three steps and they fell onto the bed in an untidy mass of arms and limbs.

She barely had time to draw a breath before he was on top of her, his lips and body crushing and grinding against her as she sobbed against his insistent mouth. Her hands seemingly had a mind of their own, gripping the hem of his t-shirt and drawing it upwards, and over his head.

The shirt was flung aside. She reached out, moving her fingers and palms over the firm lines of his muscles and he growled against her skin, rolling her over until she was straddling him. Her hair fell across his face in a peach-scented cloud as he frantically worked at the zipper on the back of her dress. Drawing it downwards, she sighed against his mouth as his hands briefly caressed the softness beneath.

He sat up suddenly, hiking the lemon fabric up to her waist and she obediently raised her arms. The dress was tugged up and over, joining the discarded shirt on the floor. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lowered her back down onto the bed again, his hands roaming her body and leaving a tingling trail in their wake. She felt his fingers and mouth hot against her neck, trailing down her collarbone and she arched her back, reaching behind to unhook the strapless bra that stood in the way.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as his mouth closed over her breast. She sobbed, clenching her fingers in his hair and panting softly; a string of unintelligible sounds issuing from her mouth.

She found herself unconsciously thrusting against him, desperate to increase the friction between her legs and wanting him to know what she needed… what she wanted. She heard him sigh deeply, felt him move upwards. He braced himself on one arm and looked down upon her, his fingers stroking the hair away from her flushed face.

"You sure?"

She nodded, wrapping her legs around him tightly. He lifted her slightly, pulling the blankets back and settling her down, with her head resting against the pillows. He moved away for just a moment, before climbing in beside the Russian. He smiled down at her, kissing her softly.

"Not gonna beat me up in the morning?"

She regarded him through half-lidded eyes, still breathing heavily. Locking her arms around his broad shoulders, she pulled his weight down until he was warm and heavy and hard against her. "Shut up, Yankee."

His response was unintelligible, something mumbled against her skin as he resumed his gentle exploration. She turned her face against his cheek as a hand wandered downwards, pressing a lithe leg aside and finding his target. Light fingers raked backwards and forwards over the cotton and she moaned as they eventually slipped inside. Her breath hitched against his neck, becoming more ragged as the pressure and intensity increased to near frenzied proportions.

She was writhing and whimpering beneath him and within minutes he knew she was ready. Wrapping an arm around her neck, he captured her lips with his own, settling himself between her legs and easing inside her.

She clenched her nails against his shoulder blades, hissing a breath between her teeth but he waited, whispering to her and caressing her. Utterly distracting her. Her body relaxed and he pressed forward again, lifting her and clutching at her as his hips increased their pace. She sobbed at the delicious friction as it built, intensifying until she tipped over the edge, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

She fell apart violently, breaking into pieces and resolute in her knowledge that her Yankee would put her back together again.

* * *

Wheeler ignored the ringtone the first time. He nuzzled his lips against Linka's forehead, content to simply watch her sleep. She was tucked into the crook of his arm, her breath was sweet and warm against his neck. He smiled, feeling her hand folded up against his chest and her fingers slowly curling and uncurling against his shoulder.

The cell phone rang again, insistent and unrelenting. Some classical piano concerto, muffled but disturbing the peace all the same. He rubbed his face and carefully extracted himself from Linka's pleasant weight. She sighed and turned over, curling up and pulling the sheets up against her chest. He was greeted by the curve of her back and for a moment he forgot the phone and considered waking her with something other than his voice.

The phone cut off mid-ring and there was a moments silence, before it started trilling again.

 _For fuck's sake._

Leaning over the edge of the bed, he stretched his arm out and reached for the strap of Linka's handbag. It was lying exactly where she'd tossed it - discarded in front of the mini bar during last night's drunken shuffle towards the bed. He pulled the bag towards him and fumbled inside for her phone.

"Yeah?" His voice was rough, a combination of the hangover and a lack of sleep.

"Hi sunshine!"

 _Gi._

He grunted and leaned back against the pillows. "What time is it?"

"It's morning."

"Can you be more specific?"

He heard her scoff on the other end of the line. "Ten. God, you sound awful. Kwame wants to head home, so you may wanna think about heading back. She awake?"

"How would I know?" Glancing over at Linka's sleeping figure he rolled his eyes. Gi was fishing for information.

"You answered her phone, genius. I know she's beside you. She awake?"

He sighed, not really knowing how to justify that. "I'll get her to call you. She's still asleep."

Gi gave a little excited squeal. "Wear her out, did y..."

"Bye, Gi." He cut her off and hung up on her, tossing the phone aside and stretching the kinks out in his neck.

Turning over, he curled his body around Linka's sleeping form and tossed an arm over her. She nestled into him, clasping his hand and folding it against her chest, just as she had several days ago on the stretcher in the medical tent. It seemed like so long ago. The Russian calmed again, her breathing slow and steady.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers through her curls and chuckled as Linka swatted his hand away. She rolled over and he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her cheek.

"Who was on the phone?" she said sleepily.

"Gi."

"Mmm," she replied.

He smiled as she angled her face up towards him: an intriguing mix of innocence and allure. Warm hands settled on her hips and she gasped, giggling as he pivoted her onto her back. Grasping her face in his hands, he kissed her softly, moving swiftly to the underside of her chin and throat.

"Do we need to leave?"

He parted her legs and settled between them, pressing his mouth against hers again.

"They can wait."


End file.
